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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312625">A Time to Weep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianowriter/pseuds/lucianowriter'>lucianowriter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Clint is dead, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Love, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Patrick is grieving, Supportive David Rose, Therapy, music therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:49:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,856</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianowriter/pseuds/lucianowriter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Patty, he's gone."</p>
<p>Those three words alter the course of Patrick Brewer's life forever. All of a sudden he is thrust into a world where he has to figure out his path without the loving guidance of his father. How will his grief affect his new marriage? </p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>The grief fic no one really wanted but this author needed to write. If only to show David being the best husband ever and support Patrick during the worst time of his life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Brewer/Marcy Brewer, Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Time to Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys! I know a grief fic may not be exactly what we are looking for in our world right now, but I needed some way to channel my feelings and emotions about my grandfather's passing from 2 years ago -- which was brought back up again due to my grandmother choosing to end all her cancer treatments. I feel like I am losing the most important people in my life and there is nothing I can do to make it better.</p>
<p>I have always heavily identified with Patrick Brewer and so the idea came to me that he could help facilitate my healing. I didn't want to kill Clint because I adore him so much, but I still think it is a valid choice to have Patrick go through this process and to have David there for him every step of the way. </p>
<p>This is only Part 1 of 2. I will be uploading the second part soon -- that is where Patrick's healing process will really start. Story title comes from a song that Patrick uses in this first part of the fic and heavily inspired moments of Clint's service. Turn, Turn, Turn by The Byrds.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The call comes on their two-month wedding anniversary on a chilly November afternoon. Patrick had been doing inventory in the back when David came over with the cordless. His face is neutral as he clasps Patrick's arm and hands him the receiver. Patrick could hear his heart in his ear as his mother says the three worst words he's ever heard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Patty, he's gone." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick doesn't utter a single word as he feels his knees give out. The world around him blurs. He doesn't know which way is up anymore. There are so many things he wants to say but the words get all jumbled up inside. After what seems like hours of struggle he finally manages one word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He was out in the yard raking leaves when he had a heart attack. He was gone within the hour." His mother's words are cold and distant as if she has become a drone of the woman who raised him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick doesn't remember hanging up, but the next thing he knows the phone is on the floor and he is just staring at the wall before him. David is right there, and for the first time ever it feels wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My dad is dead," Patrick utters, his voice too coming out much like a robot. Then he stands up and walks past David toward the front door. He needs to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick walks until he can't walk anymore. He ends up at the motel. He somehow knows that David's old room will be unlocked. Without a single word to anyone -- not even when Stevie calls his name -- Patrick pushes open the door. Alexis isn't there and David's bed is still adorned with his Egyptian Cotton sheets (David hadn't moved them from the room because he said he always wanted a backup; just in case). Whatever the reason, Patrick is thankful for them right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While he can't physically be around David or anyone right now, having something that reminds him of his husband does help. He lays down on the bed. His heart is pounding, his chest is tight, and his body feels numb. How is it he's here but his dad isn't? Shouldn't he be much older before having to deal with this? He can't even remember the last time he spoke to his dad. He knows it's been since the wedding, but a specific time evades him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick needs something to make the silence not quite so loud. So he turns to the remote and flips on the old box TV. He flips channels until he lands on a hockey game. The Maple Leafs are playing and that's when Patrick realizes he was supposed to go to a game with his dad next week. The realization hits him like a ton of bricks and the dam breaks. He is hit with body wracking sobs that won't stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is how David finds him a few hours later after the store has closed for the day. Patrick sitting against the headboard, the hockey game highlights on silent, and tears streaming down his face. Patrick is just staring at the wall not really aware of his surroundings. He's so tired he wants nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up to this being all just a horrible nightmare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't really register David crossing the room, but he doesn't push him away when David lays next to him and pulls Patrick into his chest. Patrick wraps his arms around his husband and just silently clings tightly to him. It's as if David knows he can't handle talking right now so they just lay there. Eventually Patrick finds himself drifting off in the warm, comforting arms of the strongest man he knows. When he's around David he knows he can face anything -- even a world without Clint Brewer in it. With that thought, Patrick finally let's sleep take him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next few days pass in a complete blur. David and Patrick close down the store and travel the six hours to Patrick's hometown. Usually their car rides are filled with karaoke and silly games and multiple stops for David to get snacks. This time they drive straight through. David tries to get Patrick to sing along, but he doesn't have the energy. Instead, he just places his head on the window and floats in and out of awareness. Memories of his father creep up on him and assault him when he doesn't expect it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Each time the tears start anew. After about the third batch of crying, David grabs his hand and never lets go. They ride the final two hours just like that. David's hand is his anchor keeping him tethered to Earth. The closer they get to his childhood home, the tighter Patrick's chest gets. By the time they pull into the drive he is on the verge of a full-on panic attack. David sees him fighting with himself and jumps into gear. He Parks the car, jumps out, rushes to Patrick's side, and wrenches open the door. Though he can't acknowledge David's presence just yet, Patrick is grateful he is there; both hands gripping Patrick's forearms to ground him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they finally make it inside the house, Patrick immediately wraps himself into the warm embrace of his mother. He inhales her vanilla scent and holds on for dear life. It's as if he subconsciously thinks he'll lose her too if he doesn't grab her tight enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My sweet sweet boy," Marcy mutters wetly through her own tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick doesn't have words for the pain he is feeling and how sorry he is that her own heart is completely shattered. His parents were married for 35 years -- a lifetime. He doesn't even want to think about how hard it would be to lose the other half of your heart. They remain in an embrace for almost twenty minutes before Patrick needs to break away. He's feeling overwhelmed by the number of people again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His family has always been a source of comfort for him, but now Patrick feels trapped with walls that are closing in. He needs to escape completely, he needs a breath of fresh air. Then like a savior, David is there guiding him by the elbow away from his family and up the stairs. They don't stop until they reach Patrick's old room which is now a guest room. David opens the door for them and closes it behind them once they're inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You looked like you were drowning. I figured I could throw you a life vest." David mutters softly, gently stroking his hands through Patrick's hair as Patrick looks at his shoes and the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A silence falls between them as Patrick searches his brain for the right words to describe what he is feeling. In the two days since his father's passing, Patrick hasn't said more than simple phrases to David. It's not for a lack of trying but the grief is so great, Patrick can't find the words. Then, Patrick looks up and sees for the first time just how much compassion and strength are reflected in his husband's eyes. And just like that the whole wall crumbles down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't lose you. I can't go through that. I see my mom and she's utterly heartbroken. I can't even begin to know how that feels and I don't want to." Patrick grabs David's cheeks with both of his hands and continues through the onslaught of tears, "I know that we all die someday, but until a few moments ago it never dawned on me that at some point you or I have to carry on without the other. Please, David! I can't lose you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick collapses into David's arms and the taller man begins to soothe him by rubbing his back and shushing him, much like a parent comforts their child. Patrick doesn't care because the sounds soothe his sudden panic down to just a few hiccuping breaths a couple of times a minute. David slowly moves them to a more comfortable position on the bed. They sit on the edge and Patrick clings even tighter to David in the hopes that he can wash away all his pain and hurt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When David finally speaks, his words are the gentlest they've ever been. "Shh, Patrick. It's ok. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Patrick feels David haul him in closer and squeezes his arms more protectively around him. This along with David's soft kiss to the top of his head comforts Patrick more than any of his words ever could. The grief overwhelms him; it sits tightly in his chest and heavily in his head. But with David there he feels like his whole world isn't completely shattered. David makes him think that there is a small light at the end of the tunnel. If he didn't realize it before, it's definitely overwhelming now. This is what unconditional and unadulterated love feels like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He allows himself to relax. Just as Patrick is drifting off he feels David move them so that they are laying down. Nestled against David's chest his pain and fear subside. He finds that he can relax away into nothing as David's hands rub soothing circles all over his back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, Patrick drags himself through a small meal of toast and tea just to placate David’s concern about him eating -- not because he is actually hungry. Once the whole family is done eating his mother sits down and pulls out a stack of papers. Her eyes fill up with tears almost immediately and she blubbers her way through an explanation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is what your dad wanted when he died, Patrick.” She rests her hand on Patrick’s and he has to look away to avoid breaking down himself. From his right he feels David wrap his body around Patrick’s right arm in comfort and strength. Patrick is silently grateful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok.” Patrick manages to choke out. He doesn’t quite understand why his mom wants to address only him when his Aunt Jill, Uncle Dan, their three sons, and Aunt Millie are all around the table too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then his mom hands him a list in his dad’s handwriting. At the top are the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>Death and Fun-eral</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A wet laugh escapes his mouth at that and he finds it a tad bit easier to read the list on the page. It’s a list of things he wants at his service. Patrick is impressed by how much his father is asking for. He never would’ve guessed that his dad had put this much thought into it. There at the bottom of his list is the item that takes Patrick’s breath away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, my son, Patrick, will play an arrangement of his choosing on the piano.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are we sure this is what he really wanted? How old is this?” Patrick looks up from the paper and at his mom. The questions burning in his eyes fade away when he sees that she is trying to smile through her tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know he was proud of you and loved to hear you play,” Marcy responds softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, I haven’t played in </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not sure I even remember how!” Patrick sputters indignantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, Patrick! Why are you being so awful right now! It’s what your father wanted. Just shut up and play.” His Aunt Millie responds with venom in her voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Millie, relax. He has every right to be shocked.” Uncle Dan jumps in and defends Patrick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick finds himself staring back down at the list in front of him. Being listed as one of the pallbearers was expected, but playing the piano? What was his dad getting at? Sure Patrick used to play the piano for the church choir when he was a young teen, but that was years ago. And of course his dad had been his first piano instructor, but again that doesn’t amount to much. Once he’d learned the guitar it was just easier to play that instead. Only, apparently his dad preferred his piano playing over his guitar skills.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Patty, please do it for him. He was always happiest when he was teaching you how to play. He once told me, ‘Marce that kid has more talent in his pinky than I have in both my hands.’ Your dad loved to see you effortlessly create music on those keys.” Patrick’s mom leans over and whispers in his ear before giving him a kiss on his cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is the piano in the study still in tune?” Patrick asks emotionlessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your dad played it the day before he died,” Marcy replied in answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without another word, Patrick gets up and leaves the room. He doesn’t even wait to see if David follows him. His husband had been particularly quiet during that whole discussion so Patrick figures he didn’t have any interest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reaches the study and the mid-morning sun shines on the piano, giving it a heavenly glow. Opening the lid is like opening a gate into his youth. Sitting right here on this bench with his dad when he was six years old -- learning his scales and being frustrated at how boring it was. He remembers that soon enough he was surpassing even his own dad’s knowledge and talent. Patrick reverently runs his fingers across every single key. Then with a sigh and closing his eyes, Patrick begins to play. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mom was correct, he hadn’t forgotten how.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The notes just flow from his fingers and come from no particular piece of written music. It’s all just notes to articulate how he feels in that moment. The notes start off soft and sad before crashing suddenly into a crescendo that sounds exactly like what a wave plowing you over would feel like. Patrick is so wrapped up in his musical release that he doesn’t even see David enter the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tears flow freely as his music tapers back down into a soft stream of gentle notes. When he is done he doesn’t take his fingers off the keys. He just lets them sit there, frozen in time. David’s words startle him out of his bubble of grief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was so beautiful.” David sits down on the bench next to him and lays his head onto Patrick’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick starts to play another song. He knows that eventually David will recognize it. It's one of the first arrangements he ever made with his father years ago. The song is his father's favorite, and the message itself fits for what Patrick is about to use it for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"To everything, turn turn turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a season, turn turn turn." Patrick starts singing softly. He knows he won't sing during the service, but he's singing now for David's benefit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He honestly expects David to chime in that he recognizes the song, but all Patrick receives as confirmation is David squeezing his bicep encouragingly. So Patrick continues, even as the sobs breakthrough and crack his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A time for love, a time for hate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A time for peace, I swear it's not too late." Patrick finishes. When he drops his hands from the keys David once again wraps him up in his arms and allows Patrick to soak his sweater with his tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After what feels like forever, Patrick gives David a kiss and puts his fingers to the keys once more. “I think I want to have that song lead to this one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick then starts to play another well-known song, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What A Wonderful World</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As he plays he sings in the same voice he used for his version of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Best</span>
  </em>
  <span> to David that time at Open Mic Night. David’s hands gravitate to Patrick’s hair as he plays and sings. He rests his chin onto Patrick’s shoulder and that gentle weight keeps Patrick grounded in a way he never expected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time when he finishes playing, Patrick closes the lid to the piano and pushes the bench a little further back. He sniffs and wipes at his eyes with his fist. This is the most crying he has ever done in his whole life. Even when David asked him for space and he thought he’d never win David back Patrick hadn’t cried this much. He is just tired of crying. He wants it all to be over so that he can go back to his normal life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the day, Patrick moves as if he’s in a trance. He helps his mom finalize some of the arrangements for his dad’s service the following day. He declines Father Michael when he asks Patrick to pray with him. In fact, Patrick worries that playing at his dad’s funeral, at his parents’ church where he wasn’t a member anymore, would be too much of an imposition. However, Father Michael assures him that all are welcome into the church. His reassurances however, do nothing to calm Patrick’s fears of utter disaster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night as he lays with David he allows silence to fall over them. He gently draws swirls and nonsense on David’s bare arm, his husband choosing to wear a short-sleeved tee for bed that evening. He doesn’t quite understand it, but something about David makes all of this ease his mind better than anyone else who knew his dad ten times better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had a talk with Father Michael today about dad’s service,” Patrick whispers to the room at large, his gaze is focused on the ceiling while his arm drapes around David’s shoulders and hugs the man close to his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” David’s response is warm and open for Patrick to continue with his train of thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just I haven’t stepped foot in a church outside of Christmas Services in over a decade. I don’t think it’s a good idea that I play a piece there.” Patrick voices his concern out loud, but it’s his unspoken fear of being not good enough that drives him forward. “What if I let him down?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I may not have known your dad for very long, but I can tell you that he was very proud of you. There is nothing you could do tomorrow that would make him feel disappointed or let down.” David kisses Patrick’s chest for emphasis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How can you be sure?” Patrick responds meekly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would it help you feel less intimidated by the Catholicism of it all if I sang the Kaddish for him?” David pulls himself up so that he hovers above Patrick and is able to look him in the eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe? If I knew that that was.” Patrick shrugs, his gaze glued to that of his husband.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a Jewish mourners prayer. We did it when my grandfather died. It could be helpful.” David ends with a shrug of indecision. Patrick can tell his husband is trying and for that he deserves to be given a shot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you, a delightful half-half situation are going to go all Jewish on me, huh?” Patrick smirks with an attempt to lighten the mood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I barely know any of the traditions to be considered a true member of the faith, but like you I grew up surrounded by it. I even used to go to synagogue and Hebrew school.” David rolls his eyes and then pecks Patrick on the lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean since you offered I feel I should let you do it.” Patrick kisses David back, only this time a little more fully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. So, I might butcher a few of the words considering my Hebrew is very rusty.” David stalls a little to try and hide the fact that the words aren’t readily at the front of his mind. “Oh! I almost forgot, when I pause you are supposed to say ‘Amen’. You think you can handle that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Patrick nods, his hand finding its way to David’s hair as he begins to idly play with one of the locks. David pulls out his phone and all pretenses of him knowing the words by heart is thrown out the window, but Patrick doesn't care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David takes a deep breath and begins to chant in a melodic voice that Patrick realizes he could quickly become obsessed with, “Yitgadal v’yitkadash sh’mei raba b’alma di v’ra chirutei, v’yamlich malchutei, b’chayeichon uv’yomeichon uv’chayei d’chol beit Yisrael, baagala uviz’man kariv, V’im’ru”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick smiles at David as he says “Amen.” Then David pauses to tell him that the next little part would normally be recited by everyone, but since he’s the only one in the know, this time it’ll just be him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y’hei sh’mei raba m’varach l’alam ul’almei almaya.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time when David continues the words come out a bit more stumbled and it’s clear that he has to think a bit harder to remember the pronunciation of them. “Yitbarach v’yishtabach v’yitpaar v’yitromam v’yitnasei, v’yit’hadar v’yitaleh v’yit’halal sh’mei d’kud’sha b’rich hu, l’eila min kol birchata v’shirata, tushb’chata v’nechemata, daamiran b’alma, v’imru”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David pauses and reaches his hand up and clasps Patrick’s hand in return. As Patrick intones the responding ‘Amen’, David brings his hand up to his mouth and kisses him. Patrick feels his energy start to really melt away and he knows he is close to falling asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y’hei sh’lama raba min sh’maya, v’chayim aleinu v’al kol Yisrael, v’imru.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick yawns and then says softly, “Amen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David pulls their hands apart so that he can gently caress Patrick’s face in a calm and soothing manner. Then he recites what he says is the final part. Patrick can feel himself drifting off and so when David finishes he can’t even bring himself to say the responding ‘Amen.’ Instead he hears David do it for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oseh shalom bimromav, Hu yaaseh shalom aleinu, v’al kol Yisrael, v’imru.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David kisses his forehead before saying, “Amen” Patrick drifts into a world of dreams where nothing bad ever happens. He’s so grateful that David is his husband and simultaneously wishes that everyone could see this side of David. The side that would silently support his husband for days on end as he deals with grief so large it deserves its own home. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning of Clint's funeral dawns as bright as any other day. Patrick wakes first, as usual, but he also barely even slept. Despite having fallen asleep before David he'd barely been able to maintain for an extended period of time. Patrick just kept waking up. Each time he'd just laid there and watched his husband's easy breathing. He was appreciative of all David had been sacrificing for him in the last few days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're awake," David mumbles from the pillow, still not opening his eyes or even lifting his head enough to make his words less garbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick can't find the words so instead he reaches out and strokes David's cheek while nodding. David responds with a content sigh. Then, Patrick leans over and kisses David before climbing out of bed to take a shower. He needed the time alone so the water could wash away all the emotions of the week. Today he was saying a final goodbye to his father. The idea of laying the man in the ground permanently weighs heavily on Patrick as he finally turns off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist to head back to his room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick is almost completely dressed by the time David pulls himself out of the cocoon he's made on the bed. Patrick doesn't notice that his husband is even awake; too wrapped up in trying to tie his tie. He keeps untying it because the knot isn't perfect enough. He's on his tenth attempt when he gets so frustrated that he throws the tie across the room. Only the tie doesn't land on the floor, it lands on David who's been silently observing this slow breakdown.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Woah. Patrick. Breathe. What'd that tie ever do to you?" David is trying to ease the tension with a joke but Patrick is too far in his own head to even notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick watches as his husband drops the tie and crosses the room to wrap his arms around him. Patrick collapses into David's hold. He can't stop the sobs that fall from his lips in his moment of vulnerability. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't even tie a tie right." Patrick is frustrated and it shows in his tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shhh. It's ok. You don't even need the tie. If it's too much, don't wear it." David's words are soft and supportive; not a hint of judgment to be found.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stand there like that for a really long time. Patrick loves that he has David there to see him through this day. He doesn't know how he'd do it otherwise. He wants to tell his husband all of this but the words fail him. So instead he wraps himself tighter into David's arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows that he’s going to need David more than anything on this day. He’s created a beautiful piece to play at his father's service, but he’s terrified that his heart will break and his fingers won’t work over the keys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if I can’t play?” Patrick’s voice comes out small and scared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through his tears he watches as his husband envelops him into the warmest hug he’s ever felt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your father would never think any less of you because you can’t play for him. He’d understand.” Then as a second thought he adds “everyone will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The drive over to the church for the service is long and silent. Patrick can feel the tears building up behind his eyes but he can’t even shed them. They refuse to come. Meanwhile, his husband is sitting next to him with eyes so red and brimming with tears and emotions. Why is it that David can so freely cry about a man he’d only known about a year, and Patrick can’t after knowing the man his whole life?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all file into a room packed with people. Everyone Patrick grew up knowing had turned up and they all seemed to want to give him condolences of some kind. His father was a well-loved man and that made his heart ache even more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything blues together as Patrick sits there staring at his father's casket. How is it that a man larger than life could so easily fit into such a small box? Patrick doesn’t even hear the words being said about his father by Father Michael. So, he is shocked when David squeezes his arm and whispers that it’s time for him to play. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The walk from his front pew seat is mere feet from the piano and yet it feels like miles. His feet drag and a growing dread fills his chest. This is the last time he will play the piano for his father. This is the last time he will ever see him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My father taught me how to play when I was a small child. Music always connected us. So I wanted to share this medley I created in honor of him.” Patrick told the room at large without turning to even look at them. He needed to focus if he ever hoped to get through the piece without crying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He starts to play and the music just flows from him. The combination of his father's favorite songs on piano is a beautiful string of sound that soothes. He is halfway through when the tears come and the sobs wracked his body. He stops playing, unable to continue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then as if by some miracle, David is there. The man sat down on the bench right next to Patrick and kissed him on the temple in loving support. His steady hand on Patrick’s back is what finally calms him enough that he can continue to play. That’s David in a nutshell, strong and steady when Patrick is falling apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So many people don’t know just how strong David is, but Patrick does and this week has simply reaffirmed it for him. David is his person. As he finishes, Patrick remembers the conversation he had with his father just moments before his wedding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pat, I’ve never seen you as alive as you are when you are with David. All I’ve ever wanted for you in this life is that you find happiness.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think I have. David makes me so happy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t ever let that go or take him for granted. A love like David’s only comes around once in a lifetime.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know, dad. Thank you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning was the hardest one yet. It was hard for him to leave knowing his mother would be all alone in that house. David told him he could stay longer if he needed, that David could go back to a Schitt’s Creek and their store. He knew that David was simply trying to do what he thought was best for Patrick, he couldn’t help resenting him for it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure, he could easily make that decision his parents were both still alive. He didn’t have to make a decision toward “moving on.” On one hand Patrick felt that if he never left his childhood home he could keep tricking himself into thinking his father was still alive. On the other he was tired of standing still; he needed to get back to his life. As much as he loved his hometown, that wasn’t his life anymore and hadn’t been for years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re ok?” Patrick asked his mother one more time as David carried their bags out to the car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine. Your Aunt Millie is going to stay with me for a couple of weeks.” Marcy gave her son a reassuring smile and caressed his cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about after that? I can come back in a couple of weeks while David watches the store.” Patrick offers like the dutiful son that he is when really he wants to never come back to this sadness ever again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine. I promise you.” Marcy reiterates to placate Patrick’s concerns. “Besides, you and David are married now and have the store to run. Enjoy your life together, it’s what your father would’ve wanted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick sniffs at the mention of his father. Despite all of David’s reassurances to the contrary over the past few days, Patrick still felt like he’d somehow let his father down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if reading his mind, Marcy reached out and wiped his tears, “your father was so proud of you. He loved hearing you go on and on about your store and David. Your weekly Sunday calls were his favorite. He always made sure we weren’t doing anything when you’d call because he didn’t want to miss it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You may not have noticed it, but yesterday during the service when you were playing the sun shone brightly through the window and cast a light on the piano. That was him showing us he loved hearing you play again, especially with your husband by your side.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick wrapped his arms around his mother and held her tight. They sobbed onto each other’s shoulders and when David came back their faces were both blotchy messes. With a final kiss to his mother’s cheek, Patrick bids her goodbye and climbs into the passenger side of their car.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They return home and to life as usual. David encourages Patrick to take some time and just relax. He reassures Patrick that the store will be fine; that he can manage it alone. However, that Monday Patrick is right there behind the counter doing what he does best -- running a business.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ordinary and the mundane comfort him. By keeping busy with the store he doesn't have time to obsess over his dad's absence. The pain is miles away when he's talking to Jocelyn about their upcoming two for one sale or when he's balancing the books at the end of the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows that David wants him to stay home, to deal with his grief, but Patrick isn't that kind of person. He needs to stay busy or else he will fall and never get back up. Numbers and sales keep him sane and put together. Patrick just wishes David could understand that instead of silently giving him disappointed looks. Looks that he tries to hide once he realizes Patrick has noticed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It all comes to blows on the Friday after, it has been almost a whole week. Patrick is actually kind of surprised it took David this long to put his foot down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Patrick?" David's voice comes out timid and nervous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick doesn't look up from the quarterly report he has started on now that it's December. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can you please look at me?" David sounds as though he is crying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Patrick looks up he sees a broken man standing before him. He puts down their invoices and gives David his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's going on David?" A slight ice of fear courses through him as he thinks maybe David is here to deliver him even more bad news.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please don't get mad at me." David glances down. "But I think you should talk to someone."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm talking to you right now." Patrick knows he means a professional, but he's trying really hard not to get annoyed at David. He knows David is just trying to help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's not what I mean," David whispers, still unable to look Patrick in the eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then what do you mean, David?" Patrick struggles to keep his voice steady this time. If David wants him to talk then maybe David should do some talking of his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick watches as David pulls away from the counter, and their clasped hands and starts to pace the floor. He knows his husband is struggling to broach the subject, but for some reason Patrick can't find it in him to be helpful. David should just drop the subject and let Patrick do his thing. Finally, David wrings his hands one last time and blurts out his words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You went right back to work!" David waves his hands around their store in a vain attempt at strengthening his argument.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Because we run a business, David." The words come out stern and matter-of-fact. Patrick knows it will rile David up, a part of him really wants it to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, ok. But I told you I had it handled!" David is desperate, Patrick knows just from his enunciation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And I told you I was fine."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Patrick, you're not fine." David tries to step around the counter and closer to Patrick, but he moves in the opposite direction towards their product floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why because I went back to work right away?" Patrick clenches his fist behind his back out of sight of David.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, David. The world doesn't end just because…" Patrick's words taper off and he stalls out. If he doesn't say it aloud he won't break down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You can't even say it!" David moves closer to Patrick. So close that he can feel David's breath on his cheek and David places his hands on Patrick's arms. "Your dad died, Patrick. And you can't even say it out loud."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick sighs and pulls completely away. He figures the quarterly report can wait until tomorrow. He needs to walk and clear his head. Before he exits the store he stops.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If I don't say it out loud then it's less real."</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Time to Heal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Patrick begins the healing process. David learns that sometimes just being there is help enough.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am extremely sorry for the amount of time between posts for this fic. It started off being a fic to help me with my own grief with the loss of my father figure. However, in the last few months, I have lost 3 members of my family all within a month of each other. So this fic turned into an even bigger catharsis for me as we move into the holiday season. </p><p>I hope that you guys enjoy the update and as always I thank you all tremendously for your support of my work.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>David watches as Patrick’s form recedes toward the edge of town. He had only wanted to try and help his husband. After all, Patrick wasn’t even talking about what happened. It has been a week and Patrick just goes to work, cooks dinner every other night, and then goes to bed. They barely talk about other things let alone about Clint’s death.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sigh David stacks up the reports Patrick had been working on and places them under the counter for Patrick to address some more tomorrow. He wished he knew what he could do or say to help the younger man to heal from all his hurt. David supposes he could look up reviews on local therapists and subtly present the information. Or he could just let it go and hope Patrick finds his way on his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is just about to close and lock the door when Twyla enters the shop. She gives David an airy smile and glides over toward their line of homemade soaps. Every few weeks the cafe owner would come in and try out their latest soap scent and buy her all-time favorite lemon lavender.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, today she comes to the counter with a stack of about five lemon lavender and one each of their new ginger peach and eucalyptus peppermint. David gives a smirk that at least this is something that isn’t ever going to change. Twyla may confuse him more often than not, but David has grown to really appreciate her gentle observations of the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did Patrick finally decide to take some time off?” Twyla asks with a sad, yet hopeful smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I said something I shouldn’t have and he needed some time so he took a walk.” David bags up her soaps and bites the corner of his mouth nervously. He hopes Twyla will drop it because he didn’t particularly care to rehash his earlier mistake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he just isn’t ready to hear it because he knows it’s true. Grief can really stop someone in their tracks even if they seem to never be standing still.” Twyla replies and then leaves the store.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David is blown away by her response for so long that by the time he manages to thank her she is already back at the cafe. He shrugs his shoulder and continues the procedure for closing down the store.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About twenty minutes later he arrives home and finds that Patrick must still be out walking even though it is dark outside. David gets out a few pans to start cooking up the chicken-based dinner they had planned. Before Patrick, David would only cook when he was bored or forced into it. Now, he cooked all the time because it was now fun to cook for his husband and see the joy on his face as he ate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonight, David cooks their dinner and waits for Patrick to return. Just as the chicken and root vegetables are getting cold, Patrick quietly opens the door. His eyes are puffy and David knows he’s been crying. Instead of asking, David crosses the room and wraps his arms around the younger man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry” they both utter at the same time. But David leans back and shakes his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, you have nothing to apologize for. It’s only been a week. I shouldn’t be pushing you. We both know if it had been my dad I definitely wouldn’t be talking about it either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I haven’t been fair to you, David. There are two of us in this relationship, but lately, it’s been you doing the work for both of us.” David watches as Patrick’s gaze falls on the food on the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You cooked? I’m sorry. I should’ve been home sooner. I just needed to clear my head so I went up to Rattlesnake Point.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In the dark? You could’ve gotten lost.” David realizes this is another first for him. Other relationships worried him sure, but to be constantly concerned like he is with Patrick is still very much a foreign concept to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See! You should be upset with me for my lack of consideration of you and instead, you worry whether or not I was safe.” Patrick groans and moves to sit in his chair at the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David couldn’t bear to see him become self-deprecating so he jumps in — kneeling on the ground next to his husband. “You are allowed to be selfish in your moment of grief. Food can always be reheated but you can’t be replaced so of course, I’m going to be more worried about you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who knew one day David Rose would choose a human over food.” Patrick forces a smile and gives David a look of pure adoration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David chuckles and replies, “I know right?!” Then he leans over and places a kiss on Patrick’s lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, David,” Patrick whispers, a hand on his cheek where the warmth spreads deep into his very soul. “I know it hasn’t been easy on you and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since we got the call. Even if I don’t always say it. I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David places his hand over Patrick’s on his cheek and smiles, “I love you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, Patrick is once again behind the counter at Rose Apothecary. Only this time David doesn’t say a thing. He doesn’t want to push Patrick before he’s ready. In fact, the words from Twyla have kept him from saying anything related to Clint at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David wants to be supportive but at the same time, a part of him also wants to fix everything. Patrick has always been there to fix David’s mess-ups or bad days. Why can’t David do the same for him? Why is grief such a murky body of water to swim through? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Patrick returns from a cafe run with a chocolate chip muffin for David he thinks maybe he is already fixing things. Maybe, in this case, fixing things doesn’t mean solving them. Instead, it means supporting Patrick as he navigates his own journey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David gives Patrick a smile and squeezes the man’s arm reassuringly. He gives a cough and then steps behind the curtain to grapple with the emotions of his newly realized role. The bell over the door dings and in walks Alexis and Twyla — the latter looking very much like she’s been dragged there against her will.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Patrick! I didn’t expect to see you here! I figured you’d be home in bed.” Alexis exclaims, rather uncouthly. David motions in an attempt to get her to shut up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick looks at Alexis very confused. “I’m not sick Alexis.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but when David’s pet turtle died when he was ten Adelina couldn’t get him out of bed for days!” Alexis flips her hair and trudges on — ignoring both Twyla’s subtle arm touch and David’s death glare, “you lost your dad. Waaay more depressing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alexis,” David moves toward Patrick in a protective stance. “Do you think maybe you could come with me to the cafe?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why? I just came from there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“David, I’m fine.” Patrick leans over and whispers into David’s ear. “Just let her shop.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David rakes his eyes up and down Patrick’s face to be truly sure he is ok. Only when Patrick gives a small smile and a reassuring squeeze of the arm does David believe him. He turns and watches as Alexis forces Twyla to try on one of the scarves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remember when Alexis did that to me the first day I visited the store? Back then I was so confused.” Patrick’s voice tickles David’s skin but the memory makes him smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And now?” David turns in his husband's arms and locks his eyes in an intense gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing has ever been clearer in my life,” Patrick smirks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” David teases. He knows he is goading Patrick, but a part of him knows they both need this small moment of normalcy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m in love with the store owner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Someone’s extremely sure of themselves.” David wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders as he repeats some of the very first words he ever said directly to the man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or just impatient.” David smiles at the twinkle in Patrick’s eyes for the first time in days. The replay of the first time they met doesn’t really make sense right now, but that doesn’t matter because at least they are talking and teasing each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Twy would love to buy this scarf!” Alexis’s impatient voice breaks through their magical bubble and the two break apart. David silently curses his sister for existing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no. You guys are clearly busy. I don’t really need it.” Twyla subtly tries to move Alexis toward the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hush, Twy this is like </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>one job.” David shakes his head, rolls his eyes at the ground, coughs, and then moves to ring them up. Meanwhile, Patrick disappears into the back room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alexis.” David uses his sickeningly sweet voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were you raised in a barn?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eww. No, David. We were both raised in the same place.” Alexis looks truly offended at David’s comment but he couldn’t find it in him to care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clearly not. Because even I could’ve read the room so much better than you.” David aggressively rings up Alexis’ lip balm purchase.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you — oh you mean sweet Pat?” Alexis grabs her purchase, but David holds tight to the bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t doing Pat. And we most certainly aren’t asking him about his dad!” David finally releases his hold and lets Alexis step back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alexis let's go. I promised to show you how to make your own Twyla smoothie.” Twyla grabs his sister and this time succeeds at getting her out the door. “Please tell Patrick the next tea and muffin are on me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David watches the two women cross the street and back toward the cafe before he steps into the back. He catches Patrick as he is wiping away some tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey. You don’t have to hide your tears from me.” David’s voice comes out barely above a whisper as he kneels in front of his husband.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s stupid. I heard you say ‘were you raised in a barn’ and my mind immediately went to my dad. He used to say that to me whenever I’d leave the back door open or I’d let the screen door slam.” Patrick stares at his fingers as he interlocks them and pulls them apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think that is the first time you’ve told me something about him since his funeral.” David runs his hand up and down the back of Patrick’s head in comfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it suddenly just really hit me. That’s all I have left of him. Memories.” Patrick sniffs and wipes at his eyes. Then he clears his throat with a small cough and stands up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I should probably get back out there.” The walls have come back up and for a moment it breaks David’s heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Patrick…” David starts, but his husband hushes him before anything more can be said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And even though David desperately wants to force Patrick back he knows that it won’t help Patrick or their relationship. He needs to put his full trust in Patrick and know that he will come to David when he’s fully ready. It may take weeks or months or even years, but no matter what David can best support Patrick by letting him take his journey at his own speed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over the next few weeks, David notices Patrick falls into a pattern. He gets up before David and goes for a run. Some days he arrives at the store just as David is unlocking the doors. While other days he doesn’t arrive until closer to 10 a.m. After four days in a row of Patrick arriving late to the store, David decides it's time he teases his husband a bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “You know Patrick, consistent store hours builds customer loyalty.” David gives a wicked grin before turning back to his task of refilling the shelves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick doesn’t respond. Instead, he shakes his head and grins down at the counter. David takes that as a small win. If Patrick is smiling it means he’s feeling up to jokes and finding joy in his day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, then I guess you don’t want this coffee and muffin then.” Patrick moves the items in his hands so that they are now out of David’s reach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I never said that.” David places one hand on his hip and raises an eyebrow at his mischievous husband. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure you’ve earned it. I mean have you really worked for it yet?” Patrick continues to tease David. The light in his eyes is something David didn’t think he’d ever miss but now that it’s back he never wants to lose it again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, some of us were at the store </span>
  <em>
    <span>on time</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” David insists as he steps into Patrick’s space. Then while the younger man is staring him down David plants a kiss on Patrick’s lips allowing himself to take the coffee and muffin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick tried grabbing the items but David ducks out of the way, just as Twyla enters the shop. She smiles at them but doesn’t say anything to interrupt. Patrick pauses his attempts to greet their friend, which incidentally allows David to dart across the store with his prize — free from Patrick’s grasp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What can we do for you, Twyla?” Patrick smiles while catching his breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you left your phone at the cafe by accident so I wanted to bring it to you,” Twyla says sweetly as she looks between the two men. “I’ll let you get back to work, but don’t forget you can talk to me any time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Twyla,” Patrick responds, opening the door for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once she is gone they fall back into the swing of their workday. David wants so badly to ask Patrick what Twyla had meant, but he decides to wait until Patrick offers up the information. David needs to support and trust Patrick as he moves through this new normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s how their days go for weeks. Some days Patrick opens the store with David and sometimes he doesn’t. David never asks him where he’s been or why his lunch break sometimes extends beyond an hour. In silence, David supports whatever Patrick needs. Though at times it does hurt that Patrick doesn’t talk to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking back on his experiences David realizes that never before has he given himself so selflessly to another person and have them reciprocate or at least appreciate it. Knowing this is what his husband needs is the one thing stopping David from ever speaking about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is until the week of Christmas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On December 20th, David re-enters the store after grabbing their lunches to find Patrick curled up in a ball on the floor behind the register. For a moment David freaks out and runs his hands all over Patrick looking for injuries, but finding none he calms down and reassesses the situation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“P, what’s going on. Is everything ok with the store? Is it your mom?” David’s concern hits his voice and he silently begs Patrick to look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My phone.” Patrick manages to say before he starts sobbing again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David is now thoroughly confused so he searches around for Patrick’s phone. When he finds it and taps the screen all that comes up is a picture from their wedding day which is his lock screen. David grabs Patrick’s hand and uses his thumb to unlock it. There staring up at him is the answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Alarm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Brewer Family Tree Chopping Tomorrow!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David sucks in his bottom lip and closes his eyes. The only time Patrick missed this family tradition was the year they first met and he stayed in Schitt's Creek with the Roses. It was a tradition Patrick loved to tell stories about. Like the year he was finally old enough to help cut down the tree. Or the year his mom twisted her ankle as they were searching for the perfect tree so they had to go home instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is their first Christmas without Clint and therefore the first year without a tree chopping adventure. David lets out his breath and grabs Patrick by the shoulders. He squeezes his husband as tightly to his chest as he can manage. As Patrick hiccups, cries, and snots all over David’s sweater he merely runs his hand through Patrick’s hair and whispers soothing sounds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stay like this for what seems like hours. When Patrick is finally able to pull away his eyes are puffy and red. He wipes his nose on his own shirt before locking his gaze on David.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I ruined your sweater.” Patrick motions to where he’d bunched the back shoulder of the sweater in his hands and where his snot now sat drying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David looks down dismissively and says, “that’s ok. I was needing to get rid of a few sweaters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick knows it is David’s favorite winter sweater. “David, this is your favorite one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then I’ll replace it. You’re more important. You good? Do we need to close down so you can eat your feelings or something?” David is trying and for that Patrick is most grateful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick gives a wet chuckle, “I think you are mistaking my habits with yours. No, I'll be fine. I just need to call my mom.” He then leans forward giving David a warm kiss and grabs his phone from the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David watches him compose himself and take a deep breath before finding his mom’s contact and calling her. He knows that Patrick needs his privacy, so he decides to flip the store sign to Closed and does inventory instead. Most of their customer base this time of year was online orders anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even if David couldn’t be Patrick’s confidante right now he could be his unwavering support anchor. That was more important than any chat could ever be. Patrick needed him even if it wasn’t to talk out his feelings. In a way, David just knew how Patrick was feeling so he didn’t need the words to spell it out. Maybe that was why Patrick didn’t come to him for a talk about his dad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David is brought out of his thoughts by the weight of Patrick’s arm around his waist. His husband is still on the phone, but whatever is being said requires David’s physical touch to get through it. A sideways glance at Patrick shows the tears are pouring down his cheeks once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay. No really. I have David. He’s been my anchor in all this.” Patrick reassures his mom while nuzzling his head into David’s neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silent communication between them is what David lives for. Knowing that he alone can be the only thing Patrick wants to hold when words fail makes David feel needed in a way he never has before. As he continues to stand there holding the weight of Patrick as he speaks with his mom David thinks about the gift he got Patrick. He hopes that it’ll bring his husband comfort instead of pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David decides to not even worry about it. Instead, he wraps his arm around Patrick and holds on tight. There is nowhere else he’d rather be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On Christmas morning David makes sure to set his alarm to wake him up earlier than Patrick. He wants this first major holiday to be as pleasant as possible. He goes to their kitchen and starts the water for Patrick’s morning tea. Then he goes about getting the eggs, bacon, and pancakes cooked. He’s not as good at making breakfast foods as Patrick or his mom, but David knows Patrick won’t care. He will just smile and act as though David’s cooking is the greatest thing on earth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is finishing up the pancakes — or are they finishing him? The batter all over him begs the question — when Patrick comes up behind him and slides his arms around David’s waist. Then he hooks his chin over David’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. I love your pancakes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David can’t even respond except to laugh. He’s heard the phrase “love is blind” his whole life but apparently love can’t taste either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know I love you, but I will never accept that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> my pancakes.” David finally manages while turning to face Patrick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love them because you made them.” Patrick shrugs and reaches behind to grab one of the flapjacks off the plate on the counter. Then he shoves it into his mouth as if to prove a point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to even ask you how you are today.” David starts but Patrick plants his hand on David’s arm to stop him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really want to curl up and shut out the world, but being here with you makes that feeling not so bad. We are married now, we will have our own traditions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David lets Patrick kiss him before he responds. “Yes, however, we should never forget the traditions that got us here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, we don’t have nearly enough funds to host a huge party this year.” Patrick teases, tapping David on the nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David just smiles at him. There is no response needed. Patrick was present and being the Patrick David fell in love with. He knew that a crash was coming later but for now things were happy and full of life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you may want to eat breakfast, but can I give you my gift first?” David wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulder and looks deep into his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess I can survive a bit longer.” Patrick stole a quick kiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David smiles and moves to their tree on display in the front room. He grabs a lumpy package from under it and brings it back to Patrick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope you like it. I just wanted you to feel ok this year.” David nervously rambles as Patrick examines the crinkly silver wrapping paper and the black ribbon tied around it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patrick takes his time tearing open the gift which sends David into an almost panic. However, when the paper finally falls away to reveal a quilt Patrick is the one sobbing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. You hate it. I’m sorry. I’ll just…” David grabs for the quilt, but Patrick stops him as another sob wracks his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s perfect.” Patrick cups David’s cheek before drawing in a deep breath and continuing, “Where did you get my dad's old shirts?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Jocelyn was already seeing this quilt for you. Then your dad passed and I asked your mom for a few of his shirts, which then became the four corner squares. Jocelyn added the square in the center with the guardian angel quote.” David bits the corner of his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s blue, my dad’s favorite color,” Patrick says reverently as he strokes his hands over the soft squares of fabric.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A silence falls for a bit. David watches his husband stroke the quilt for a while before he lifts it to his face and breathes it in. He isn’t crying anymore but the shine of tears is still in his eyes. David realizes he loves this man more than himself. He would die to make Patrick happy. He would give up his own needs to meet Patrick’s. It’s in that moment David fully understands what marriage — and love for that matter — means.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even without a word, David is reassured that Patrick will be okay. It may not be any time soon, but David knew he would be there for Patrick no matter what. Even if David says or does the wrong thing he knows that he is the most important person in Patrick’s life. He is what keeps Patrick from floating away.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please let me know what you think of this fic. I know it is a risk, but I still wanted to share it with the world. I appreciate any and all kudos and comments you guys can give me.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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